Something to Live For
by Akutenshi2
Summary: Entry for TK Takaishi's contest - a Takeru and Ken friendship fic. Um... Ken is depressed, Takeru helps him... *sweatdrop* I hate summaries...


Hello everybody! This story is for TK Takaishi's Digimon fic contest! (which I know I'll never win... *sobs* but what the heck, I like to write! *grins*) This is... *drumroll please* a Takeru & Ken FRIENDSHIP fic! (but it is NOT yaoi! No romance whatsoever!) This has much angst. Much. (Poor Ken, I torture him so...) And it's really short... Ah, who cares...  
  
Argh... can't do HTML... Okay, when the text is between these: ~*~, it means that section is a flashback. I'd do it in italics, but... I'm rather stupid... heh...  
  
Disclaimer: Digimon is not mine. I only use it for my own satanical purposes, but I do NOT want to be sued! Really!  
  
Well? What're you waiting for? Read! And review please! Well, now that that's over with... Go on, gather your courage, and read...  
  
  
Something to Live For  
  
  
A slight breeze wafted overhead, carrying the slight scent of roses in its feathery arms. It swirled rapidly, obscuring the pictures of the pearly clouds that framed the golden sun perched high in the sky, before slowing down to a brisk, playful breeze. A young boy wiped a tear from his eye as he stared up at the heavens above him, before averting his gaze to an object that lay across his palm. The brightly polished metal shone in the sun's light, causing the boy to see myriad swirling stars. He curled his fingers around the newly sharpened knife, smiling in grim satisfaction at the pain it caused as blood dripped like uncried tears down his arm.   
  
"'Samu... onii-san, I'm sorry," he whispered, loneliness clouding his bluish-purple eyes. He stood shakily, bracing himself against a rough, gnarled tree trunk. "First you... now Wormmon..." A single tear trailed its way down his cheek on a well-worn path. "I have nothing to live for anymore. I can't take it, onii-san. I'm not brave like you were, not like Wormmon..." He drew a shuddering breath and kept talking. "Wormmon died for me... You died because of me..."   
  
He whirled, anguish making his exhausted limbs strong, and slammed the blade into the rough bark of the tree. "It's all my fault!" He collapsed, sobbing, on the ground, as tortured memories too long suppressed flew back at him.  
  
~*~  
  
"Ototo-san, not now. Tomorrow, I'll play with you, okay? Go away," the older boy admonished his brother, an impatient expression on his face. He ran a hand through his unruly indigo hair, sighing as his sibling pestered him.   
  
"Ken!" Both boys turned around to see their mother's head poking into the room. "Ken," she chided her youngest son, "Osamu needs to work. You can't be bothering him."  
  
"Okay, Momma," he relented, plodding sadly out of the room. His mother offered Osamu an apologetic smile.  
  
"I'm sorry, honey, I'll try to keep him out of your way, okay?"   
  
"Thanks, Mom," he replied absently, already lost in his schoolwork. She closed the door behind her gently, and turned to Ken.  
  
"Ken," she said, voice stern, "how many times have I told you to stay out of Osamu's room?" The young boy hung his head, and she ruffled his hair. "Go play video games or something, okay? The neighbours are coming over for tea later this afternoon, so keep yourself occupied."   
  
Ken nodded obediently and ran out of the room, rubbing his grubby hands in his eyes to hold back the tears. 'Why don't they care about me?' he thought dejectedly. 'They only care about Osamu.' Inspiration struck. 'I wish... I wish something would happen that made them pay attention to me! Not him! Just me, and only me. I wish that maybe he would disappear, and then they would like me, too!' Grinning hopefully at this thought, he scampered into the den to pick up his video games.   
  
All that afternoon, he listened to his parents and their friends at tea. They were full of talk about the most recent events, but soon enough, talk turned to their favourite subject. Ken crouched down, trying to concentrate on the screen as their voices rang in his head.  
  
"You're so lucky to have a boy like Osamu!" The neighbour's voice was full of awe of the child prodigy.   
  
Ken could almost see his mother's proud smile as she replied. "Yes, I know. He's our pride and joy."   
  
Ken's father joined in with a small laugh. "Handling the reporters is hard, but I don't mind!" His wife swatted him. "Okay, fine," he relented, "I like the attention. So sue me!" He offered a reckless grin, at which the others laughed.   
  
Ken tried to ignore the tears that stung his eyes, blotting them out with his sleeve as he stared intently at the screen. Somehow, the animated creatures didn't seem so captivating now. Sighing, he dropped the controller and lay down, burying his head in his arms. Slowly, the voices faded away as he drifted into a peaceful slumber.  
  
He woke several hours later to his mother's quiet crying. Tentatively, he made his way out into the kitchen, where his mother was slumped against the counter, loosely clutching a phone in her hand.   
  
"Momma?" he asked, silently walking to her side. "What's wrong?"  
  
His sobbing mother clasped him in her arms, running her hand through his hair as she whispered in his ear. "Ken... it's Osamu... he's gone... He was hit by a car on the way to his friend's house..."  
  
Ken jerked away. "No!" he cried. "I didn't mean it! Osamu!" Falling on his knees, he pounded at the floor with his fists futilely. "Osamu..." he whispered, tears shining in his eyes. "Osamu, come back..."  
  
~*~  
  
Ken shook his head to clear it of the images flooding his mind - the funeral, his sobbing parents, the empty room. He grasped the hilt of the knife in his hands, pulling backwards to free it from the unyielding tree. When the bark gave way, he flew backwards, crashing into a large, granite headstone. He scrambled up, the knife still clutched in his trembling hands, as he looked down at the grave the large rock marked.  
  
"Ichijouji Osamu..." he whispered, reading the letters carved into it. "Beloved son and brother. He will be missed."   
  
He then gazed at the small rock that he had placed beside it, reading the simple words that he had painstakingly hewed into the unrelenting rock. "Wormmon - A good friend." He sank to his knees, a hand on each rock, as tears poured down his face, as he remembered his faithful friend's last moments.  
  
~*~  
  
"Wormmon," he whispered, holding the small worm gently in his arms. "Why... why did you..."  
  
"Ken..." The worm patted his arm weakly. "I did it because you're my friend, Ken."  
  
Ken shook his head. "I don't deserve friends," he murmured quietly, pictures of what Wormmon had done flashing across his vision. "You gave yourself... for me. After all I've done..."  
  
The small digimon smiled up at him despite his pain and fatigue. "You're still good at heart, Ken. I know you are..." Ken opened his mouth to reply, to say something to his only friend, but Wormmon had already gone. His arms were holding nothing as Wormmon's data floated up through the air, carried away by the breeze. Ken watched until the last pieces of the digimon were out of sight, swept away over the dusty hills into oblivion.  
  
An animal cry ripped from his throat as he fell to his knees, disregarding the sand that ripped into his eyes, scalding his skin. He paid no heed to the group of children that watched apathetically as he screamed out the name of his lost friend.   
  
~*~  
  
Ken stood, holding the knife with renewed purpose as he stared down at the two tombstones. "I won't hurt anyone else," he whispered, closing his eyes tightly.   
  
"Ken!" Startled by the cry, Ken looked up to see a blonde figure running towards him.   
  
"What do you want?" Ken asked sullenly.   
  
"What do I *want*?" asked the boy incredulously. He grabbed Ken's hand, pointing vehemently at the knife clasped in it. "Unless I'm much mistaken, you were about to kill yourself!"  
  
"So what if I was?" Ken snapped, yanking out of the other boy's hold. "Why would you care?"  
  
The boy simply stood and stared, his azure eyes shining with astonishment. "Why wouldn't I?"  
  
Ken sighed. "Because of who I was, Takeru. You know who I was. You have no reason to care." He turned away.  
  
Takeru seized his shoulders, whirling him back around. "I do too have a reason! Because you shouldn't die!"  
  
Ken looked at him, the tears bright in his eyes. "So I should live? How can I? I..." He shuddered, choking back the tears. "I don't want anyone else to die because of me!"  
  
Takeru tightened his hold on Ken's shoulders, thrusting him into a sitting position on the damp ground. That done, he grabbed Ken's hand and forced the knife out of it. He half-expected Ken to come after the weapon, so he stuck it safely in a zippered pocket. Sitting down next to him, he placed a comforting arm around his shoulders. Ken didn't have enough energy to fight as he succombed to sobs.  
  
"You don't know what it's like," he whispered, burying his face in his hands. "He died to save me... And now he's gone..."  
  
"I know how you feel, Ken." Surprised, the crying boy looked up at Takeru. Takeru sighed, looking at the horizon, seemingly admiring the plethora of colours that formed a far-off mountain range, crowned by a hazy mist. Ken looked down at his hands, fighting off more tears. Suddenly, Takeru's gentle voice broke into his reverie. "It was during the first time I was in the Digital world," he began sadly. "We were fighting a really evil digimon named Devimon."  
  
Ken looked up, shocked, as he heard the name. Takeru nodded absently at the unspoken question. "Yeah, the same one you used for Kimeramon... that's why I went so berserk... Patamon was the only one who hadn't digivolved to champion yet, and all of the other digimon had been defeated. Patamon tried to protect me, but Devimon was relentless. He kept saying about how if he destroyed me, all of his worries were over. He tried to grab me, but... he got Pata instead." Takeru stopped, choking on the words as tears clouded his cerulean eyes. Taking a deep breath, he glanced down at Ken and continued. "Patamon digivolved to Angemon. It was the first time I'd seen him. He used up all of his energy to defeat Devimon, but he pretty much killed himself in the process." Takeru's voice broke as Ken looked up at him inquiringly.  
  
"But... if he died, then how come he's still here?"  
  
Takeru smiled. "Digimon are reborn, Ken. I didn't know about it then, and I thought Angemon had died for real. He came back in a digi-egg, and so will Wormmon - if you want him to come back, that is."  
  
Ken spoke eagerly. "Of course I want him to come back!"  
  
"Then don't kill yourself, okay?"   
  
He nodded reluctantly, glancing aside at the tombstone. He stood, walking over to it, and picked up the small rock beside it bearing Wormmon's name. He reread the words etched in its rough surface before pocketing it, his eyes still sad.  
  
Takeru skimmed the tombstone, his azure eyes widening in pity. "Your brother died?"  
  
Ken glanced over his shoulder. "Yes," he answered curtly, the grief audible in his voice. "All because of me." He spun suddenly, slamming his fist into the tree. "It's all my fault! Don't you see? I-"  
  
Takeru jumped up beside him. "God, Ken, will you stop blaming yourself? It's not your fault! It's. Not. Your. Fault."   
  
"Yes, it is!" Ken cried, facing Takeru with his eyes blazing. "I wanted him to disappear so my parents would pay attention to me! I made him die!"  
  
Takeru stepped back hesitantly, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. "Ken, you didn't make him die, and you know it, so stop wallowing in self pity!"  
  
Ken stared at him, wide-eyed. "I... I'm sorry," he whispered.   
  
Takeru stared back, eyes sad. "Ken, you have so going for you. Your parents love you, you're talented, you have friends..."  
  
"Friends?" Ken interjected bitterly. "I don't have any friends."  
  
"Sure you do." The smile Takeru gave him was sincere. "You've got Wormmon... and you've got me."   
  
Ken looked up, astonished. "You...?" Takeru nodded, and he felt tears coming to his eyes all over again. Friend... the word sounded so foreign to him. A friend... Maybe he had something to live for after all.  
  
The two friends sat in tranquillity, gazing into the distance. The silence was not awkward, rather, it was filled with unspoken camaraderie.   
  
  
-----  
  
  
Argh... I can't write. Review & tell me if ya hated it, liked it, thought it was corny... Whatever...  



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